A SAIL IN SIGHT--A GALE COMES ON--REACH THE FRIGATE--RONALD REJOINS THE
"THISBE"--MADE LIEUTENANT.
When morning dawned, and hunger reminded the escaped prisoners that it
was time for breakfast, they looked about and discovered in the forepeak
a supply of water and provisions, and what was of most consequence, a
compass. She was evidently, then, the very craft the Gerardins had
intended for their use.
"I hope they won't get into a scrape for what they have done for us,"
observed Ronald. "Though he is an odd fish in some respects, I liked
that fellow, Alfonse Gerardin; and from the glimpse I got of his father,
I should say he is first-rate."
The health of their friends was therefore drunk in some very fair
claret, which was found among the stores, and never has a merrier party
floated in an open boat out in the Atlantic.
Two days passed, and Mr Calder calculated that they were well into the
Chops of the Channel.
Several vessels had been seen, but none had been approached. Mr Calder
did not care about this; he hoped to carry the boat into Falmouth or
Plymouth harbour in safety.
The evening was drawing on. "A sail on the starboard bow!" was the cry.
She was a ship standing across channel; unless she or they altered
their course, she could not help falling in with them. From the look of
the vessel it was impossible to say whether she was a friend or an
enemy.
"If them there tops'ls weren't cut by an English sail-maker, I'm ready
to pass for a Schiedam drinking big-breeched Dutchman for the rest of my
born days," observed Job Truefitt, in a decisive tone, as standing up on
the forecastle deck, and holding on by the mast, he shaded his eyes with
his hand, and took a severe scrutiny of the stranger.
"Maybe I've handed them more than once and again."
"What do you make her out to be, Truefitt?" asked Mr Calder from aft.
"Why, sir, maybe I'm wrong, and maybe I'm right; but if I'm right, then
I take it she's no other than the thirty-two pounder frigate, `Thetis.'
I served aboard her better nor twelve months, so I don't deserve to have
eyes in my head if I shouldn't know her again," answered Job.
"I think that you are very likely to be right, Job, and I'll trust that
you are," said Mr Calder. "Take a couple of reefs in the mainsail as
you hoist it, lads. The sky gives promise of a blowing night, and we
shall do well if we can have a stout ship under our feet."
As the lieutenant was speaking, a heavy squall passed over the boat,
which, had her sails been set, she would have felt severely. As it was,
the spray which it carried drove over her in thick masses, as she
drifted before it. Dark clouds were breaking up heavily to the
southward, while others drove across the sky, their outer edges glowing,
like red-hot coals, with the beams of the setting sun. The squall,
however, passed away, sail was made, and the boat sprang briskly over
the rising seas towards the frigate. All were now as anxious to be seen
by those on board her, as they were before to escape observation. It
was very evident that a storm was brewing, and a pretty heavy one--such
a gale as the French fishing-boat they were in could scarcely weather.
Every instant the wind increased, and the seas rose higher and higher.
The frigate, it was very probable, was outward bound, for as the wind
got round she trimmed sails and steered to the westward. The boat was
now close hauled. If not seen by the frigate, it was scarcely to be
hoped that she would cut her off on the other tack. The gloom of
evening was coming on also, causing the small sails of the boat to be
less discernible.
"They'll not see us," sighed Rawson. "And as to this wretched little
craft living out such a night as we are going to have, that's a sheer
impossibility."
"The craft has carried us thus far in safety, and may carry us into
Penzance or Falmouth harbour, I hope, even if we do miss the frigate,"
observed Morton. "We shouldn't so mistrust Providence, I think."
"You think, you youngster!" said Rawson, contemptuously. "You haven't
been tried as I have."
"But Rawson, suppose we are preserved. What will you Bay then?"
"That we have obtained more than we deserve," answered the old mate, as
if involuntarily.
"The frigate sees us," shouted Job Truefitt, from forward, making use of
a very common nautical figure of speech. "There's port the helm--square
away the yards--she'll be down to us in a jiffy."
"Time she was too," observed Rawson, and he was right, for the gloom was
increasing, the rising sea was tumbling and pitching the boat about, and
even with two reefs down she could scarcely look up to her canvas.
The frigate, however, had not shortened sail, and on she came, looming
large through the midst as she ploughed her way with irresistible force
across the intervening space of tumbling foam-covered seas. Mr Calder
gave the necessary orders to prepare for going alongside. It was a work
of no little danger. The frigate had now got within a few hundred
fathoms of the boat. Her canvas was reduced, and the helm being put
down she rounded-to, and there she lay, dipping away heavily into the
seas, making it appear to a landsman an utter impossibility to get near
her, and even to a seaman a dangerous undertaking. The boat's sails
were lowered, and, if it could have been done, the mast would have been
unstepped and pitched overboard; the oars were got out, and the boat
approached the side of the frigate. Numerous friendly hands were ready
to heave ropes for their assistance from various parts of the sides,
from the chains and ports.
"Now give way, my good lads!" shouted Mr Calder, seeing that not a
moment was to be lost.
The men pulled on, but the ship at the moment plunged forward, and the
boat dropped astern. Should this again occur they might lose the chance
of getting alongside altogether. With renewed efforts they again pulled
up. A rope was hove on board and secured to the bits, and by its
assistance they at length got alongside.
"Now, lads, up with you!" shouted the lieutenant.
The men caught hold of the ropes thrown into their outstretched hands.
The greater number sprang up the side like cats, but Morton, with the
right feeling that it is the officer's duty to see his men in safety
before seeking his own, hung back. Now the frigate rose on the side of
a sea, leaving the boat in the trough far below her, then in another
instant down she came striking the boat with a terrific crash. The side
was crushed in, and the water rushing over her, down she went. More
ropes were hove to those still on board. Morton caught hold of a rope
with his left hand, but, at the same time, a spar struck his right a
blow which rendered it powerless. He held on with all the energy of
despair, for he knew that if he let go he should be lost. A poor
fellow, one of his companions, was washed away close to him. His own
was an awful position. He had received a second blow from a fragment of
the boat. The sea was surging up round him. Should the ship roll over
he must be submerged, and would inevitably be torn from his hold. He
tried to cry out. The spray rushed into his mouth and almost choked
him. Already it was so dark that he feared no one would see him. He
believed that his last hour had come. The loud roar of waters was in
his ears; he was losing all consciousness, and in another instant would
have let go his hold, when his arm was grasped by a vice-like clutch,
and he found himself lifted upwards till he was safely deposited on
deck. He looked round to ascertain who had been his preserver. A tall
gaunt young man was standing and shaking the water from his jacket, but
just then an order was issued for all those who had been rescued from
the boat to muster aft.
Lanterns were brought, and no sooner did the light of one of them fall
on Mr Calder's countenance, than one of the lieutenants, who proved to
be the first of the ship, stepped forward, and grasped him warmly by the
hand.
"What, old ship, is it you?" he exclaimed, almost wringing his hand off,
and speaking rapidly, as if unable to restrain his feelings. "Where do
you come from? What has happened to you? Tell me all about it."
This Mr Calder briefly did, and warm and hearty was the reception he
met with in the gun-room, to which Rawson was also invited, while the
other midshipmen were taken care of in the berth.
The gale continued to increase in fury.
"We should have found ourselves in a bad way by this time on board the
French fishing-boat," observed Mr Calder. "Ah, Rawson! we have reason
to be grateful, man, and we should do well if we left off grumbling for
the rest of our lives."
"You would deprive all poor old mates of the only privilege they
possess," answered Rawson; "that would be hard indeed."
The frigate, it was found, was bound out to the North-American station.
This was a great disappointment, as Mr Calder, especially, was anxious
to rejoin the "Thisbe" as soon as possible, not to lose his chance of
promotion.
However, although the gale continued to increase, Captain Markham was
not the man to put back into port as long as he could possibly keep the
sea. He had a good deal of the Flying Dutchman spirit about him,
without the profanity of that far-famed navigator, which has so justly
doomed him to so unenviable a notoriety.
The frigate was rolling and pitching somewhat heavily, as Ronald and his
companions found their way into the midshipmen's berth.
"Take your seats. You are welcome here, mates," said the caterer as
they entered. "We shall have food on the table in a jiffy. There's
cold beef, and salt pork, and soft tack, and here is some honest Jamaica
rum. Not a bad exchange for the Frenchman's wish-wash claret, I
suspect."
The reception, altogether, given to the new comers was cordial, if
unrefined, and not many minutes had elapsed before they were all
perfectly at home. Ronald, less accustomed than the rest to a
midshipman's berth, felt more inclined than usual to be silent. He
found himself seated next to a midshipman, who differed considerably,
both in manners and in many points, from his companions. His appearance
was not at the first glance in his favour. He was red-haired, and tall,
and thin; so tall, indeed, that when he stood up his shoulders touched
the deck above, and his head and neck formed an arch over the table. He
must have been eighteen or nineteen years old at least; indeed, he might
have been older, though he still wore the uniform of a midshipman.
Ronald thought that he was rather dogmatical, though his remarks were
characterised by shrewd, good sense, not destitute of humour. It was
not till he stood up that Ronald, who had been looking round the berth
to discover the person who had just rendered him such essential service,
felt sure that he was the one. Ronald suddenly put out his hand.
"I have to thank you for saving my life just now," he exclaimed with
genuine warmth. "If it had not been for you I should be floating away
dead astern."
"It cost me but little to haul you up, so say no more about it,"
answered the tall midshipman. "I happened to be looking over the side,
and caught a glimpse of your head as you were hanging on like a codfish
just caught by a hook. Besides, I find you come from the far north, and
we Scotchmen always help each other."
Ronald had detected a slight Scotch accent in his new friend.
"You must let me be grateful, at all events," he answered. "And you
won't heave me overboard again when I tell you that I am not a
Scotchman, but a Shetlander."
"I knew that when you began to speak," observed the tall midshipman; and
they went on to talk about Shetland, and before long the latter had
learned several particulars of Ronald's history.
"We must be friends for the future," he observed, as the master-at-arms
appeared at the door of the berth, with the announcement that it was
time to douse the glim, and the various members whose watch it was below
hurried off to their hammocks with as little concern as if the ship lay
snug at her anchors, instead of being exposed to the full fury of a
heavy gale.
The frigate was kept thrashing at it, in the hopes that she might hold
her own till the storm abated. The important result of the first
lieutenant's constant care and attention to the fitting of the rigging
was now fully exhibited. Not a strand of a rope parted, not a spar was
sprung.
Ronald soon saw that the tall midshipman was a great favourite with Mr
Lawrence, the rough diamond of a first lieutenant, nor was he surprised
when he found that he was a lord, and yet the most attentive to his
duty, and most eager to master all the details of his profession.
Lord Claymore, the tall midshipman, and Ronald soon became fast friends.
Ronald admired him especially for the good sense and judgment he
displayed in conversation, and the coolness and courage he exhibited in
danger.
The gale continued, and the frigate lay her course to cross the
Atlantic.
"She has been making much lee-way," Ronald heard the master observe to
the captain.
"We shall weather Cape Clear for all that," was the answer; "once free
we may run before it with a flowing sheet to the banks of Newfoundland."
"Ay, if we are once free," muttered the master, who was not at all of
the touch-and-go school.
On stood the frigate. It was night. The midshipmen who had been
rescued from the fishing-boat were allowed, after their fatigues, to
remain below without doing duty for some days. Ronald could not sleep.
This was very un-midshipmanlike; he knew that it was Claymore's watch on
deck, and he thought he would take a turn with him. He dressed and went
on deck; it was not a tempting night; it was still blowing very hard,
and the frigate under close-reefed topsails was heeling to the breeze
till her lee-ports were deeply submerged, while the spray in thick
showers flew over her. Ronald soon found his tall friend.
"I like this," observed the latter with enthusiasm, rubbing his hands;
"the wind is strong enough to blow every inch of canvas out of the bolt
ropes, if it wasn't all good and new, or to send the masts over the side
if they were not well stayed up. We have the land under our lee, and if
anything was to go we should in all probability drive on to it. Now,
just consider the satisfaction of knowing that everything is as strong
and good as wood, iron, and hemp can be, and of feeling that one has
contributed to that end. There isn't a block, or a spar, or a rope,
that Jack Lawrence or I haven't overhauled. See the advantage. He
sleeps as soundly as if we were in harbour, when most other first
lieutenants would have been up and down fifty times to ascertain that
all was going right, and not have slept a wink. Take a leaf out of his
book, Morton--it's what I am doing, and intend continuing to do."
"Land on the lee-bow!" cried one of the looks-out forward.
Had any one been drowsy, that sound would have made them rouse up very
rapidly. All eyes were directly turned towards the quarter indicated.
The clouds had broken away in that direction, and a gleam of light fell
on the threatening headland. The officer of the watch sent a midshipman
down to call the captain and master. They were on deck almost as soon
as he was. The compass was consulted, and the bearing of the land
taken. The master then went below to consult the chart. Claymore
begged Morton to go and call the first lieutenant.
"We take things coolly aboard here, but he would not like to be below at
this time, and would thank you for summoning him."
Mr Lawrence sprang on deck after Morton. A consultation was held; it
was the general opinion that the land seen was Mizen Head, and that if
there were light sufficient, Cape Clear would be seen on their quarter.
They might take shelter in Crook Haven; but under the uncertainty that
the point seen was Mizen Head, the master refused to undertake the
fearful responsibility. The determination to keep the sea was also more
in accordance with the captain's inclinations.
"She has drifted to leeward more than I suspected; we must yet shake
another reef out of the topsails," he observed. "What say you, master--
do you think she will bear it?"
"She must bear it," was the answer.
"She will bear it," said Jack Lawrence, positively.
The united strength of all the crew was required to perform the
operation.
"All hands on deck!" shouted the boatswain, giving emphasis to the
summons with his shrill whistle.
Directly the order was given one of the first aloft was Claymore; Morton
followed him on to the main-yard; it was not his duty to go aloft, but
he could not resist the impulse which made him do so. It was fearful
work, holding on to that yard, up in the darkness, with the fierce gale
howling round their heads and the ship pitching furiously, while at the
same time she heeled down over the roaring seas. The word was given to
let go; but before the sail could be sheeted home it shook and
struggled, almost freeing itself from the sturdy crew who were hauling
away on the sheet.
Morton felt as if he should be shaken off the yard, but a hand with a
firm grasp held him, nor let him go till he had reached the top. They
descended on deck.
"Thank you, Lord Claymore," said Morton, warmly; "had you not held me I
might have lost my life."
"I don't say you would have deserved it," said the tall midshipman; "but
why rush to a post of danger without necessity? stronger and older men
are better fitted for the task you attempted. It was my duty, and I
went. However, I like your spirit, Morton. If we weather this cape we
shall know more of each other; if our masts go over the side, or we
otherwise fail, we may none of us see another sunrise."
He spoke as coolly and calmly as if talking on some ordinary topic.
Away the ship plunged through the seas more furiously than ever, bending
down till it seemed as if her yard-arms literally touched the foaming
tops of the seas as they came rolling and hissing by. Every officer was
at his post: the captain, with his lips compressed and teeth clenched,
stood watching, now the bending masts, now the compass, now the dark
threatening land. The frigate drew nearer and nearer to it; still she
flew ahead. A quartermaster and two of the best seaman in the ship were
at the helm; Jack Lawrence stood near them; they were doing as well as
he could desire.
"Keep your luff, lads," he said once in a quiet tone; "steady--that will
do."
Not another word was spoken by him, or by any one on deck; all eyes were
riveted on the land. The ship seemed to be making no progress, for
there it still lay on the lee-bow. Some thought they could hear the
roaring of the surges, as with the whole force of a south-westerly gale
they were hurled against the cliffs. Still the canvas held the fierce
wind, and the well-set-up rigging supported the masts.
"Morton, the land is drawing abeam," exclaimed Claymore suddenly; "the
ship will be saved. I did not think so at one time, though."
He was right: gradually it seemed to rise up more broad on the lee-beam;
but as the ship surged onward amid wildly-leaping waves, the water,
lashed into masses of foam, was seen over the lee-quarter leaping over
the cliff from which she had so narrowly escaped. Still there were
other points and headlands farther to the north, from which she was not
altogether clear. For another two hours or more the same press of
canvas was kept on her. Few breathed freely till the order was being
given to take another reef in the topsails; the order was accomplished
without a casualty, and the watch below were allowed to turn in.
Some days after this the "Thetis" fell in with a line-of-battle ship
homeward bound: she took Mr Calder and his companions on board.
"We shall meet again, I hope," said Lord Claymore, as Morton was about
to go down the side.
"I should be sorry if I did not think so," answered Morton, as the young
men grasped each other's hands.
Westward steered the "Thetis," and eastward the huge old "Thunderer;"
the latter reached England, and the officers and men of the "Thisbe"
once more rejoined her, to the satisfaction of most of their friends,
who had given them up for lost.
The "Thisbe" finished her commission with considerable credit to her
captain, officers, and crew, who had likewise not a small amount of
prize-money to boast of. Ronald Morton on his being paid off joined a
sloop-of-war in the West Indies; here he especially distinguished
himself, and, to the great delight of his father, obtained his
promotion. He returned home, and was immediately appointed second
lieutenant of his old ship, the "Thisbe," now commanded by Captain
Calder, and bound out to the East Indies.